Some Things Never Change
by Boneheart
Summary: I am fatass, just fatass. At this point being called Cartman would be a blessing. Somehow, fatass just makes me less of a human & more of an object, but maybe I am just an object.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park**

I am fatass, just fatass. At this point being called Cartman would be a blessing. Somehow, fatass just makes me less of a human & more of an object, but maybe I am just an object.

I'm unsure exactly when it started, but as I grew up people took less and less of my bullshit. Then one day, poof, I was nothing in their eyes. I'd tried to change, I really had. But the more I tried, the more I failed. It was always a "scam". There was too much suspicion, too much hate. I couldn't change, not in their eyes.

Despite noticing, I ignored. I'd tried to resist, tried to deny what was happening. I didn't want things to change. By eighth grade even Butters wanted nothing to do with me, that'd knocked me down a few pegs. I don't blame him, out of everyone I treated him worst.

Then there's Kyle...I regret losing our friendship most. We'd never gotten along, but at times we understood eachother. But that was the past, this is the present. He hates me, I love him. That's how it is, that's how it'll always be.

He'd never fall for me now, not after everything I've done. Besides he's way out of my league. He's 6'2, well muscled yet lean, and above all popular.

Kyle was on track and the basketball team, yet he still kept his grades up. He excels at everything. Even had time to hang out with Stan and Kenny still. He was perfect.

Stan. He still dates that slut Wendy off and on. He's quarterback, like no one saw that coming. He's a well muscled, tall man of about 6'3.

Then there's Kenny, school stoner and a big time whore. If he's not fucking someone, he's probably getting high. Or both at once, who knows. 5'10, and quite the looker despite how thin he is.

And me? 220 pounds of pure fat, standing at an intimidating 5'6. I'm pitiful. No longer was I the loud, bigoted Nazi I'd grown up as; instead I'm depressed, greasy haired, hoodie wearing "skewl shooter". I'm just as hated now as I was back then.

Yeah, I could change my appearance, I could wear clean clothes. But what's the point? Why exchange my foodstained hoodie and sweats for something nice? Not like I'd impress anyone.

Besides I get bullied, a lot. Craig just won't leave me alone, no matter how much I cower or cry he never shows mercy. It's like he gets off on it. I wasn't looking forward to junior year.

It was the first day, skewl started in exactly 10 minutes, but I already wanted to go home. Awkwardly, I stand by my locker. Same one since freshman year, the skewl thought organization based off last name would avoid drama This wasn't exactly the case, Kyle's was only one away from mine, it created problems.

I looked up for just a moment to see Kyle heading towards his locker, he's in the same green hoodie and tight black jeans he always wears. We made eye contact, he's smirking now. Shit. Quickly I turn around and fumble with my locker. Maybe if I pretend I'm busy he won't say anything. I can feel his gaze on me, I try not to look scared as I hear him stop behind me. He breathes and then,

"Can't even dress yourself, fatass?"

I almost flinch, almost. I brace myself and turn around, biting my nails. Wait? When did I start chewing them? Avoiding his gaze, I silently walk passed him. That hurt, it wasn't the worst thing said to me, but it sure felt like it coming from him.

I almost get to class when I feel a tense hand on my shoulder. I don't needa see him to know who it is.

"Looks like we'll be having another splendid year together, won't we fatboy?"

"Yeah, guess we will.. Craig."

"Hey," can practically hear his smirk, " don't be so bummed out... "

His towering frame leans over me, arm around my shoulder, as he whispers in my ear.

"...this is going to be a very special year."

I feel something graze my ass as he leaves, causing me to shudder. What the fuck did he mean by that? Did he? Did he just touch my ass?

Nervously, I head to class. I don't like where that went. He scares me.

"No.. It was an accident, it had to have been... " I whisper, taking my seat in the back of history class.

This was going to be a long, painful year. I could feel it.


	2. Chapter 2

I trudge down the street, coffee in hand. My shoes soaked thanks to the slushy snow. I'm not exactly eager to get home, but it's far better then that shit hole of a school. I guess.

The day had been...better than expected. I didn't get my ass kicked, but what Craig had said disturbed me. Recently he's gotten a lot more scary. The way he looks at me, it's changed. His stare lingers just a bit too long. I wish he'd just keep beating me instead, I hate the head games.

I used to be used to Craig's bullshit, but he's changed he's become more aggressive, demeaning. Almost as if he owns me. Almost as if I'm an object.

And then there's Kyle, he bothers me too, in every class we shared he'd stare with that unreadable expression of his. It made me uneasy, nervous. Would he hurt me? I really can't handle worrying about both of them.

I continue to brood in my thoughts. Not noticing the car speeding by until I'm soaking wet. Of course, I just had to be by a puddle. Fucking dropped my coffee too.

"God damn buttfucker!" I yell, but the cars long gone.

I sigh and continue my walk home. Stupid assshole should learn how to drive. Upon reaching my house I notice moms car is gone.

'Good, I don't feel like dealing with her anyways. ' I tell myself

Heading for the kitchen, I enter my house. I don't bother with the lights, instead I open the fridge and pull out 5 or 9 slices of last night's pizza.

I sigh," Food is comfort. At least it loves me..."

'It can't love you. It's an inanimate object you dumb shit.' He whispers

I frown, looking at the pizza with disgust. He's always there.. Always ready to remind me of my flaws, my insecurities. Appetite gone, I toss my pizza into the trash. Better there than in the fridge, surely I wouldn't be enough of a pig to eat from the garbage?

'We'll see'

"Shut up." I tell him," Just leave me alone.

He's silent, for now at least. I'd like to keep it that way, so I head upstairs for the stash mom keeps. Drugs and alcohol of every kind, but I simply settle for gin and marijuana.

"Time to get shit faced..." I tell myself as I head for mom's room.

It's not a habit I indulge in often, but when I do I like to get plastered to the point I forget my own name.

I take a bag of weed, her pipe, and a bottle of Gin from the top shelf of her closet. I should really consider getting my own supply, but I don't do this often enough for it to matter.

Once I'm safely in my room and on my bed I crack open the Gin and gulp that shit down. I can already feel it fogging my brain, it's that prebuzz. Alcohol taste like shit, but the reward, the relaxation, makes it worth it.

"Damn it I grabbed shake... "

Whatever, it'll still work I guess. I fill the bowl, light, and inhale. Probably should've smoked first so I'd be less likely to blow chunks. Too late now.

Before I know it, the gins half gone and the pipes ready for a refill. I've got the munchies, but I don't feel like getting up. I'm vibrating, twitching, it's soooo comfy. I can barely lift the remote, but I manage. I flip through channels until I find Terrance & Philip.

Of course I immediately start giggling like a maniac, I'm that kinda pothead. You know the type, and if you don't you may not want to. I assure you we're fucking annoying.

My eyes flick to my bedroom door as I hear a knock down stairs. Oh fuck is it the cops?! I stay silent as possible, fear coursing through my body. The more nervous I get, the higher I feel, which only makes me more nervous. It's a vicious cycle.

My door slams into the wall, I screech. For a moment I fear I'm getting arrested, but then I see him standing in front of me. It's Craig, and he's _pissed_.

'What the hell is he doing here?'

I frown, I'm not in the mood for his shit.

"Wipe that look off your face, tubby."

"Why are you here?" I growl out," Leave me alone."

"Just wanted to visit my favorite little punching bag, that a problem?" He plops his ass down on my bed, and snatches my pipe.

"Oh, sure make yourself at home... " I mumble

"You got a problem, bitch?"

"N-no, no, of course not... So why are you here? You didn't say." I was sobering up. I'd spit right in his fucking eye if I could. Fucking asshole ruins everything!

"What'd you say, cunt?! How dare you talk like that!"

He grabs the collar of my shirt, shaking me back and forth. I'd said that last part outloud, shit.

"Craig please, I'm sorry! Let go, you're hurting me!" I squeak " H-here take the weed, fuck off, and leave!"

Suddenly a fist collides with my face, I fall on the floor. He straddles my stomach and yanks my hair.

"Your smart mouth just got you into a lot of trouble fatboy," He's sneering,"hope you're ready for the beating of your life."

His angry blue orbs stare into my terrified brown ones. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut?

His hand cracks across the right side of my face with a burning sting. Then comes back across the left cheek. The fucker bitch slapped me!

"I'm talking to you, pay attention!" He screams in my ear and I shiver, eyes tearing up.

I whimper as he stands up. He jerks hiz foot back and kicks me in the side. I scream and turn on it, getting into a fetal position.

He continues kicking me, over and over, until my shrieks become whimpers.

"Look at me, now."

I sniffle, looking up at him with tears stained eyes. Squeezing them shut when a thick loogie lands across my cheek.

I open my eyes for just a moment as a boot smashes into my face, again and again. I try to speak, but I can't. He's gonna kill me if he keeps this up. My mind goes fuzzy. Vaguely I hear something shatter, my face stings. Is it?... Darkness greets me before I finish my thought.


	3. Chapter 3

"H..? ..opsi..ns? ..ke up."

Someone's speaking, but I'm only hearing bits & pieces. My fingers lightly touch the carpet while I try figuring out exactly where I am.

'Wait, carpet?' My eyes slowly blink open. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Poopsikins you're awake!"

"Ugh..."

It takes all the energy I can muster just to sit up. I skim my body & find every inch of visible skin covered in bruises & scrapes. There's a chunk of glass in the middle of my right arm. Blood's sluggishly oozing out of the wound.

I try to process the chaos that my living room was as everything comes back to me.

I remember spitting on Craig, him choking me, then right as I began to pass out he let me breath. I guess I must've kicked the table moms vase was on. It explains the glass.  
I got cut when he tossed me to the ground & began to beat me. After awhile I must've passed out.

Beep. Beep. Be–  
"Fuck."  
I hiss out. It's damn near impossible for me to move let alone get out of bed. The bruises had gotten bigger over night, more tender to. Craig really did a number on me this time.

Moms already gone to "work." Normally she wouldn't start so early, but my guess is she's getting close to a client again. It's beyond me why anyone would willing date a prostitute.

I drag myself out of bed, put my gray hoodie on & head for the bus stop. I wore my clothes to bed & frankly it just hurt to much to bother changing.

Stan & his pack were already there. They were discussing some type of party happening on Saturday.

Awkwardly I stand a good five feet away from them, eyes downcast like usual. I could feel their eyes burning into me as their voices turned into inaudible whispers.

I heard the snow crunch as one of them walked towards me. I shrank into myself when their shadow blocked what little sunlight there was.

Upon glancing up I realized it was Kyle. He was scanning my body with emotionless eyes & I couldn't help, but feel more self-conscious. Maybe I should've changed clothing after all.  
Just as Kyle began to speak the bus pulled up & cut him off. He awkwardly stood in front of me for a moment, eyes roaming over my body. Shaking his head he retreated to the bus. I hop on the bus after him & rush to the back as fast as my stubby legs will carry me.

Awkwardly bumping into people's seats, followed by their snickers & sneers. I plop down into a window seat in the very back, alone like always.

Now that I wasn't so focused on Kyle's staring I had time to feel just how much damage Craig had done. Yesterday I had painkillers to deal with the throbbing pain. Now I don't. I use my phone's camera as a mirror. The bruises are still raw & tender, blackening my left eye, leaving finger shaped prints on what was showing of my neck, & even some light ones on parts of my hands. "No wonder they were staring...I'm a wreck."

Ugh math. The subject I hate the most, besides gym of course. They're both a pain in the ass, but I guess if it's mental pain vs physical pain I'd go for the first.

I fidget in my seat, grumbling. I'm really starting to hurt, not to mention they're starting to swell.

"If this keeps up I'll be a blueberry by the end of the day..."

"Well you can go be a blueberry in the principal's office if you keep disrupting my class ."

My shoulders hunch & my face flushes in embarrassment as my classmates begin to snicker.

"Sorry Ms. Tila... "

"Hmph"

'Stupid teachers always gotta get on my case.'

I brood for the rest of the lesson. As soon as the bell rings I'm out the door. I'm practically running to my second class when I crash into something & hit the floor.

"Fucking bitch! What the he–"

I cut myself off as soon as I meet Craig's angry gaze. Gulping as I see his coffee covered, previously white, shirt.

"I m-mean...hi Craig."

"One reason why I shouldn't rearrange your face."

"I–um I-i didn't–I wasn't–I didn't s-see you."

My voice takes on a high pitched, squeaky quality while I think up an excuse.

"Shut. Up."


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: I feel like a complete asshole for being on hiatus for so long. I'll try to keep updates going, but no promises.**

 **Important!: Chapters 1-3 have been harshly edited so please go back and reread them!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own South Park**

I lay in bed, face wet with tears. My body, fuck it hurts so bad. Why'd Craig have to hit so hard? Maybe had I not been a devil child, karma would've been more forgiving. I look back on my childhood memories in disgust.

All the times I fucked with Butters, or sat on my ass eating Cheesypoofs; I'd been such an arrogant asshole and now I'm reaping what I sow.

But... at least back then I had a fucking spine. Sure I was cold and often times unfeeling, but I still had a spine god damn it. Fuck, I had a life... I had friends. Am I really more pathetic now, than I was back then?

"Hehe yep" I scoff

There I go again, confirming my own insecurities. I'm a fucking crazy, mean spirited prick and everyone knows it, well knew it.

Now I'm just a crazy, self-loathing bitch.

I shudder in surprise when I hear three loud knocks on the door.

"Poopsikins, dinners ready~"

"Not hungry mom!"

"O-oh... Ok honey, that's alright. "

She's hurt, dinner was the only real time we got together. But I don't care, I'm too fat for dinner. I don't deserve it.

With that thought in mind I fall into a deep, disturbed sleep.

I'm running through the forest, sweat dripping down my forehead. I'm being chased! I'm being fucking chased by something, no someone, and they're fucking catching up!

"Shit. Fuck. Shit! Leave me alone!" I cry out

I look back and see the glint of a knife, he's hooded, I can't see his face. But the knife, the knife I see.

God damn it move faster. Oh god I can practically feel his breath on my neck. No, it is on my neck!

Just like that I feel myself being snatched up and scream. He let's go of me just long enough to shove me into the snow and climb on top of my chest.

"You fuc–"

His hands, they're on my throat. He's strangling me; I can't breath. I grab his wrists, trying to pull him off to no avail.

I can feel my face reddening with lack of oxygen. I claw at him more desperately, heart pounding in my ears. But it's too late, I can feel my awareness slipping, my pulse slowing as darkness consumes me.

"Jesus fuck... Just a dream." I breath raggedly

7 am. I'll be late for skewl even if I rush, may as well ditch. I hate skewl anyways, hate seeing Kyle, Craig,.. everyone. They all make me feel so stupid, wait not feel, I AM stupid. End of story.

I got dressed and headed for Starks Pond. I wasn't exactly sure why I headed there. Clarity? Relief? Who knows.

I dusted some snow off a log and sat down. Normally this isn't necessary, but it snowed pretty hard last night. It wasn't comfortable, but it'd do, for now anyways.

I didn't find clarity or relief, but I knew how I could. I knew what'd bring me instant gratification, my secret weapon.

Reaching into my pocket I feel for the small, white container I knew would be there. It's contents would bring me just a moment of bittersweet bliss.

Just as I'm about to open it I hear a crunch, causing me to freeze up. Who the hell is here? No one's ever here this early. I shove the square container back into my pocket and turn around to be confronted with the giant that is Jewboy.

"Hey, Cartman, what're you doing out here? "

"None of your god damn business, could ask you the same thing. " I mumble, temper flaring

Kyle sits next to me, irritation clear. Bastard. Why can't he just leavs me alone. Why now of all times?

"Listen," Kyle started," lately I've noticed some changes. You've been–"

"Oh look at the Jew, getting in everyone's business! Nosy as ever Kyle!" I stand," If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a girl with all the bitching you do, fucking ki–Ow what the fuck Kyle?!"

He hit me, be actually fucking hit me. I send him a teary-eyed glare, rubbing my cheek.

"Listen here, Cartman, " he's shaking with anger, fist balled, " you deserved that. The second anyone's kind to you, you lash out. I'm sick of it. "

I look down, he continues his rant.

"Where do you get the balls to talk down to me? I'm a girl, huh? " he grabs my chin, forcing me to make eye contact.

"Then what are you? A boy? A man? Neither. "

"I'm–" he cuts me off

"A fat, unintimidating loser. I don't know why I came, but I regret it. "

He begins walking away, I don't know why, but I can't let him go. I grab his sleeve.

"Kyle wait.. " I look up at him, jesus he's tall, I must look like a child compared to him.

"What?"

"I... um.. " oh god, what do I say?, " I.. never mind. Just fuck off! "

I turn around and quickly run into the woods. That was fucking humiliating. I should've just let him go, now I look like a jackass.

Fuck you Kyle, always gotta make me clam up. You're just as bad as Craig.

It begins to snow. I turn back, having been running around the woods aimlessly for probably 30 minutes now.

But I freeze, there's the distinct sound of a twig snapping. My dream comes back to me and I shake, ready to run. I shriek and jump back when a doe shoots across my path.

"Jesus fuck...You fucking asshole, I'll make fucking jerky out of you! " it's long gone, but the threat still stands.

 **Unknown POV**

The fucker doesn't even realize he's being watched, but maybe he would've if that dumb doe hadn't gotten spooked.

He stumbles back towards Starks Pond. Must be heading home. His mother would be gone by now. Sluts gotta get bills paid right?

I chuckle, a wicked grin spreading across my normally emotionless face.

"Perfect."


End file.
